


A Holiday Giving

by CMHolden



Category: Benjaminutes - Fandom, The Riftdale Chronicles (Web Series)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, F/M, Fluff, Multi, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-09-30 13:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17224721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMHolden/pseuds/CMHolden
Summary: Each chapter is a short piece I've written for different holidays.





	1. Merry Christmas, RDPD

**Author's Note:**

  * For [midori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midori/gifts).



Susan hummed softly to herself as she unpacked the finger foods. Some of the other dispatch girls hung lights, other decorated the desks with tinsel. The annual Christmas party was the one time of year where every department got to hang out together. It was also hilarious to watch the chief get drunk.

The first Christmas since the two grey guys arrived. Smith had already gained the love of everyone. Chief… Chief walked around with a dark aura. Some people had tried not to invite him, but seeing as all employees were invited, the only reason he wouldn’t come is if he chose not to. That seemed pretty possible. He didn’t seem to thrilled about it. Susan sighed, placing her shortbread on the table. She turned around to see Beattie hanging mistletoe.

“Oh, yeah, that’s not going to end horribly.”

“Oh, come on, it’s a bit of fun!”

“Just don’t come crying to me when someone tries to get you under there.”

“I’ve got a few bets going with Rachel,” Beattie said, “I think Carmen will try and get Steve, Janet and Keith will come together, and Chief and Smith are secretly dating.”

“Woah, hold up, you think Chief and Smith are together? Don’t you think we would have noticed by now?”

“They’re always together!”

“I’m pretty sure they’re just friends. They don’t seem to be together at all.”

“They come from the 40’s. You couldn’t be out then. They’re probably still scared. But, if we get Trevor and Sam under the mistletoe, then they’ll notice it’s totally cool!”

“Beattie, have you been into the wine already?”

“… Only a little!”

\---

Christmas parties. Whose bright idea was it to mix colleagues and alcohol? 99% of all dumb decisions involved alcohol. Chief sighed, looking at the horrible tie Smith gave him.

“If you’re not going to wear a festive sweater, at least wear this!” he said as he passed it to him. While sitting on the bed it was a bright emerald green with candy canes and snowflakes. It was much less bright when he slipped it on, but the snowman at the centre looked no less goofy. Other than that, he wore his usual attire.

“Chieeeeeef, why not wear something more casual?” Smith whined. He wore a sweater with a red nosed reindeer on the front, surrounded by Christmas lights and baubles.

“Smith, that is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you~! I got you one too, if you want it!”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Can you at least wear the antlers I got you?”

“Smith…”

“Fiiiiiiiine! Just know you’ll be the _least_ festive person on the planet.”

“Not everyone celebrates Christmas.”

“Least festive of those who do, then.”

Chief rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t be going at all if Smith wasn’t dragging him along. He would have much preferred to spend a quiet night alone together. He sighed as he put on his shoes. Without Smith he wouldn’t have bothered getting a tree and decorating it. Chief had nothing against Christmas, but he just never saw the point of a big tree. He always just got a little tree and left it on the mantle place. He never bothered to go to Christmas parties before.

\---

They were some of the last few to arrive. The party was in full swing, but the second Chief walked in, it felt colder. Feeling the atmosphere change, Chief quickly moved to a corner to hide on his phone. Smith joined in, warming everyone back into a good mood. People seemingly forgot Chief was even there after a few minutes, leaving hm alone to brood in the corner.

Everyone except Susan. She sighed. If she approached him, she’d probably make it really awkward. He would occasionally slip over to get a drink, before returning to his phone in the corner. He’d time it for when there were very few people there. She watched as he poured something from his flask into the cup. He would occasionally scan the area, brooding the whole time.

The snacks were further away than the drinks. Chief never went to them. Susan bit her lip, taking a plate of shortbread over to him.

“… Hi!”

“… Hello.”

Now she was closer, he didn’t look as angry. He just looked tired.

“Short bread?”

“… Thank you.” He took one and returned to watching the room.

“…So, any plans for Christmas?”

“Quiet day with Smith. Why?”

“No reason… just making conversation.”

“… Don’t feel like you need to.”

“Oh, um… ok. Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He ate the cookie, and for a moment, Susan swore she saw his mouth twitch into a smile.

“… If you like them, I can give you the recipe?” Susan offered.

“You made these?”

“Y-yeah?”

“…They’re good.”

“Oh! Thanks!”

Chief gave her a small nod, before returning to his phone. She smiled, taking the plate to the table again.

\---

The commissioner called everyone over to make a speech. Chief stood at the back quietly. Smith came and stood next to him. Most people were too drunk to really focus properly. Smith wavered softly, trying not to giggle. Chief gently held him up until the end of the speech, before taking him to lean against the door post.

“Ooooh, look who’s under the mistletoe!” called Beattie. Chief looked up with a sigh.

“Uuuugh, do I gotta?” asked Smith. Chief sighed with a soft chuckle. He felt Smith kiss the top of his head. “No one said _where_ I had to!”

Chief shook his head, “C’mon Smith, you’re drunk.”

“Y-you gotta kiss me back Pops,” Smith slurred. He swayed forward, Chief awkwardly pecking his forehead. Pops? It felt right but… Smith was probably just drunk and being silly. Chief went to lead him out.

“We can’t go yet, Chief! We haven’t done Secret Santa!”

“Smith, you’re drunk.”

“I don’t wanna go yet, Chief!”

“Fine… Let’s go to my office then.”

Beattie begrudgingly handed Rachel $20 as Chief lead him to lie on the couch in his office. Most people went back to the party. Susan stood around eating snacks for a while.

Chief never came out of his office, but she could see the glow of his computer. She went and took a small plate of shortbread into him.

“… Hey.”

“… Hi… Uh… sorry, didn’t catch your name.”

“Susan. From Dispatch.”

“Right.”

“… Why are you working?”

“I’m not. I’m on the YouTube watching this bee farmer.”

“Oh!”

“My phone battery died so I’m charging it until Secret Santa.”

“… Not much of a party person then?”

“… No. I prefer bee farming videos.”

“I see… I bought you some shortbread.”

“Thank you.”

Not a partier, not much of a conversationalist either. Smith began to sniff softly.

“What’s wrong Smith?” asked Chief softly.

“Bees are dying so many of the time… but they’re so good Chief. Good little bumbles… but they’re dying.”

“Look, Smith. This man is saving a wild colony.” He turned the screen, so Smith could see. It quietened him down. Susan smiled gently as she left.

\---

Smith was already pretty drowsy by the time it was Secret Santa. Chief sat with him as the presents were given out. Smith got another box of nerf bullets, having lost so many on duty. He also got a small off-brand nerf gun. Chief received a small box of liquor chocolates.

“I… don’t remember signing up for Secret Santa.”

“Don’t worry Chief, I did it for you. You got Susan.”

Susan received a lovely soft scarf and a set of gloves. _Well, at least she likes them_.

\---

Chief bundled Smith in the car.

“Just wait here, I left my things upstairs.”

Chief went back up to his office. Most people were stumbling around, trying to find their ways to their Ubers and Taxis. Susan ran into him.

“Oh! Sorry! You forgot your coat so I was bringing… it to you…” She held it out to him. He took it with a soft nod.

“Thank you. Do you need a ride home?”

“No, no. My brother’s on his way.”

They stood there, in the doorway for a moment. Chief looked up at the mistletoe.

“… Whose idea was this?”

“Beattie. She bets who she can get to kiss under the mistletoe.”

“That sounds awfully childish.”

“Yeah… I guess… though sometimes childish things… are fun y’know?”

“… I guess.”

“I won’t make you play the game… I know you’re not really the one for this kind of thing. Don’t wor-”

Susan felt a soft peck on her cheek. Chief moved away.

“The rules don’t say where. Merry Christmas, Susan.” Chief took his coat, carrying it over his shoulder. Susan stood, gently placing her fingers on her cheek, dazed but not upset.

The soft twinkle of the fairy lights glowed throughout the city, as the RDPD annual Christmas Party drew to a close. And as the officers each returned to their homes, some more sober than others, two particularly monochromatic members sat on the couch watching bad Spanish dramas until the younger of the two passed out. The elder tucked a blanket around him before going to bed.

And for once, Christmas wasn’t that cold.


	2. Valentines Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bart tries to make Valentines fun, but Christian is a prick.

“Anyone who celebrates Valentine’s day is just validating con artists,” declared Christian, laying on the couch. Bart looked at him, seemingly hurt, before leaving.

“Wow,” said Claire, leaning in the kitchen doorway.

“It’s true.”

“First of all, you’re a con artist.”

“Would you want to validate someone like me?”

“Secondly, he was about to give you a Valentine.”

Christian looked over at him with an eyebrow raised.

“We’re not dating.”

“I know. Bart gave me one too. They’re friend Valentines.”

“That’s even more stupid. They’re just increasing their demographic.”

“Christian, would it kill you to be nice for _once_?”

“Probably.”

Claire threw his hands up in defeat, storming after Bart. Christian rolled his eyes, lying back.

\---

Bart lied curled up on his bed.

“You do realise you can kick him out. He doesn’t pay rent,” Claire said as he sat behind him.

“Neither do you.”

“I do house chores though.”

“True…” Bart sat up, pushing his glasses up to wipe his eyes. “I just don’t get why he has to be like that.”

“Because he is like that. If it makes you feel any better, I think your present to me was some of your best work.”

“Really?!” Bart said, perking up. Claire chuckled. So predictable.

“I thought the use of kinds of pasta other than macaroni was very _avant-garde~”_

“I’m glad you liked it!” Bart held him close, giving him a warm hug. Claire chuckled, hugging him back.

“My gift to you only arrived this morning, so I didn’t have time to wrap it.”

“You got me a gift too?!”

“Of course, I did~”

\---

Christian awoke on the floor next to the couch. It was dark outside, and there was no sign that the others were there. He pulled himself up, taking a deep sniff. Someone had been cooking. Mac and cheese? Pasta maybe? Christian went to the fridge. They usually left him some when he was asleep, but this time all he found was the gross, crusty bottle of ketchup, leftover who-the-hell-knows-its-mould-now and several bottles of milk. Christian frowned. There were definitely more dishes than before. He closed the fridge door, going to find the other two.

He found them in Bart’s room, under a pillow fort. Bart was fast asleep, curled happily into Claire’s side. Claire leaned back, on his phone with a hum.

“What’s for dinner?” Christian demanded.

“Whatever you want. Bart and I already ate.”

“What about me?!”

“Come now, Christian. You’re a big boy. You can make your own dinner.”

“… Dad! Claire didn’t save me any dinner!” Christian called out into the room. The soft vrrrt-ttsh sounded behind him, as Dad appeared.

“Wow Dad, you look awful,” said Claire. Dad gave a small smile, covered in bruises.

“It’s Valentine’s Day. Biggest battle of the year. Can’t stay long. Your mother’s out, but only for the moment.”

“Christian was a dick to Bart, so we had Valentine's dinner without him.”

“Oh… ok… yeah, Christian don’t do whatever you did.” And with that, Dad disappeared again.

“… So, I’m the bad guy for not celebrating.”

“You’re the bad guy for not keeping your mouth shut for once.”

“If I get him something, can I have dinner?”

“You don’t have to get him anything. You just have to get your own dinner.”

“I can’t go get my own dinner I’m on house arrest!”

“Not my problem.”

Christian huffed, leaving.

\---

Bart woke with Claire’s elbow in his ear. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Claire yawned and rolled over. Bart smiled, getting up and heading up to the kitchen. Christian sat with a box of Chinese food.

“…Morning, Bart.”

Bart nodded, going to get himself some cereal.

“Giving me the silent treatment? Seriously.”

Bart nodded.

“I’m sorry I upset you, alright?”

Bart poured himself a glass of milk.

“Bart, for the lov- why do you care about this holiday so much?”

“I don’t. It’s my least favourite.”

“Then why are you upset?!”

“I never got Valentine's cards as a kid. Claire didn’t spend any time with other kids, so he never got any either. I figured you didn’t either. And we’re all having a shit time right now. I’m studying and working a job I hate. Claire’s been on the edge of his parent’s trail, but not getting any closer, and you’re… you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re on house arrest, and I know it’s making you miserable. I just… wanted to do something nice. Claire appreciated that. You didn’t. It’s fine. I _don’t_ _care._ ”

He definitely cared.

Bart took his cereal and went back to the bedroom. Christian scowled. Do something nice? Pfft, who does that? Dumbasses, that’s who.

 

Oh right.

Bart’s a dumbass.

 

Christian sighed, leaning back. The thought made him sick to his stomach, but he had no choice.

 

Christian had to do something nice.

\---

Claire awoke to the fire alarm. Christian’s gotten bored and lit the tea towel’s on fire again, most likely. He got up with a grumble, leaving Bart to sleep with his cereal spoon still in his mouth.

Instead of a burning tea towel, he found Christian furiously waving it at the alarm.

“What are you doing?” he asked, hands on hips.

“I’m _trying_ to make this milky dessert thingy,” he grumbled, pointing to a pudding recipe on Bart’s computer.

“… This…. Does not require baking. What’s burning?”

“The… cocoa and nuts.”

“What?”

“It calls for toasted cocoa nuts. So, I’m making them!”

Claire sighed, taking the burnt mess that was previously cashews and cocoa drinking powder.

“Did it say cocoa nuts, or coconuts?”

“You just said the same thing twice.”

“Did it have an A?”

“Where the hell would the A be?”

Claire checked the recipe, letting out a soft chuckle.

“What?!”

“A coconut is not nuts covered in cocoa. It’s its own thing.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know!”

“Christian, you can’t cook for shit. Let’s start with something basic.”

“No, I’m doing this myself!”

“Is ‘this’ burning down Bart’s house? Because, yes. You are doing that.”

Christian grumbled, throwing the morning’s work into the bin.

\---

Bart stumbled out to the smell of toast and jam. Christian looked up, giving him a small nod.

“… I made… food. I think…”

“… Claire, did he poison it?”

“Hey!”

“No, he didn’t,” sighed Claire, “He even washed his hands before touching anything.”

Satisfied, Bart took a slice. Christian placed a wine glass of milk with a small skewer of fruit in it in front of Bart.

“… It’s not much but… I wanted to say so…sor-…sorr-”

“It’s alright, I understand.”

“Hold on, I-I can say it… So-sor-ugh.”

“I know you mean it, because you look like you’re about to throw up,” Bart said with a smile.

Christian nodded, quickly excusing himself.

\---

Claire found Christian in the backyard, breaking sticks.

“You did good.”

“I think I’m allergic to it,” Christian muttered, throwing a broke twig to the side. Claire chuckled.

“Bart still wants to give you his gift.”

“Why? I was a prick to him.”

“Yeah, but he spent a lot of time making it.”

“…Fine.”

\---

Christian held the small pipe up.

“Uuuh… Thanks… Bart.”

“Put it up your nose.”

“What?”

“Squishy end. Up your nose.”

Christian did as he was told. It stayed in perfectly.

“Surprise! I saw how you were having trouble rolling bills up properly, and how you kept cutting your nose on the knife. So, I made this for you.”

“Oh… wow, Bart, that’s… really thoughtful.”

“I thought you’d like it!” Bart said proudly.

“Feel… kinda shit. Not getting you anything.”

“You could do something for me~”

“… And what would that be?”

“Take a shower. Please.”

 


End file.
